


Clumsy

by alabasterclouds



Series: Abby's Memories [2]
Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Aftercare, Age Play, Arguing, Bathing/Washing, Bottlefeeding, Desperation, Diapers, Drunkenness, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Age Play, Omorashi, Wetting, bottles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 14:43:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alabasterclouds/pseuds/alabasterclouds
Summary: It's been awhile! Life has been busy and I haven't been all that well, so I haven't written a lot lately. But I'm back with a Tumblr request for Carol/Abby omorashi and ageplay. Abby and Carol are together in this one, so it predates Therese.Carol and Abby head out for a night out and Carol gets jealous after Abby flirts with another girl. Refusing to speak to Abby on the way home, she also unfortunately ignores another little problem . . . and the perfectly put-together Carol suddenly finds herself on the brink of disaster.If you want to follow me on Tumblr or request a fic of your own: alabasterclouds.tumblr.comWARNINGS: This includes non-sexual ageplay and omorashi, as well as diapers and wetting. Don't like it, don't read. I'm not responsible for your reaction to the story. Read the tags and read responsibly.





	Clumsy

It was funny, Abby thought, because unless you really knew Carol, you'd never know when she was uncomfortable or upset at all.

Watching her speak to Therese about an unfinished chore for the umpteenth time, Abby notices that Carol's shoulders are just slightly higher than their natural stance and her voice is just slightly tighter. Because she was raised in a family where being prim and proper was the utmost in being a lady, Abby knows that Carol has had trouble showing her true emotions before, though it usually isn't an issue with Therese, and Abby has been on the receiving end of some pretty interesting phone calls from Carol after a few of the couple's arguments. But Carol doesn't like to explode unless there's a reason to explode, and Abby can tell that right now, she's holding in most of her irritation partially not to make a scene and partially because she doesn't want an hour-long argument about domestic drudgery.

But Abby smiles a little, inwardly. It had taken her a long time to get Carol to not shut down when she was upset or angry, back when they were still together in Ridgewood, New Jersey. Carol tended to storm away, or worse, give Abby the cold shoulder. But she'd stopped that after one eventful night, back in the summer of 1947, right before she met Harge.

//~//

At the time, Carol was still living with her parents, and Abby was running the big stone house on the hill, her parents having decided to defect to Europe for a year now that the war was over. It was nice, Abby thought, because the servants were none the wiser about she and Carol; and also, it was a private place to bring Carol back to after evenings out at the one jazz restaurant in uptight Ridgewood.

Oh, how Abby loved that bar! Technically, she really shouldn't have been seen there, but she just couldn't get enough of the rhythmic, experimental music. She'd sit in the shadowy booth, set back a little from the main part of the restaurant, several Scotches in front of her, and get lost in the music. Carol wasn't as big of a fan, but even she liked the otherworldly feel of escaping from their usual lives of parties, invitations, get-togethers, barbecues, and other socialite duties. Though Abby had attended university - one of the first women at the time to do so - Carol's education had ended at finishing school, and she found her days rather empty, though most of the time she didn't have any free time to speak of. 

Abby had always teased Carol about this. "You nitwit. Why sit at home when you could pick up a hobby? Goodness, Carol, anyone would find themselves going stir-crazy up there away from anyone who matters."

Carol had tossed her blonde curls, her blue eyes sparkling down into Abby's brown ones. "Oh, Abigail, do quit picking so. I have plenty to do, what with this committee and that, and my mother signing us up for the church benefit next week." But her shoulders had slumped a little, and Abby knew Carol was tired. She'd reached over - a rare thing in public - and squeezed her shoulder.

"Say. Why not come out with me tonight and we'll have a little sleepover? You could use a break from all those twittering hens. Honestly, I don't know how you do it. Better you than me. I think they learned their lesson when they had me run the punch bowl for the last Soldiers' Gala."

Carol laughed, and Abby knew she was picturing the way Abby's big dress had caught the edge of the bowl, tipping it dangerously and spilling a goodly amount over Mrs. Harwood's antique tablecloth. Though Abby had apologized, a little off-handedly, and offered to pay for the cleaning, Mrs. Harwood hadn't invited Abby to help with any events since.

"And thank goodness for that," Abby had said at the time. "I can't stand that sort of frippery on clothing. Sure, it might look nice on other girls, but what use have I for it?"

Sitting in the bar, they watched the band set up through the hazy air, and Carol sipped a glass of vintage Bordeaux while Abby knocked back her second Scotch. 

"Well, Abby," said Carol, lighting a cigarette. "How's tricks, then?" Carol was dressed rather simply, for her, this evening. A grey pencil skirt, nylons, and an elegantly cut blouse. Her hair was curled carefully and tied with a ribbon, giving her a girlish look. Abby, as usual, was dressed in her tweed suit. She'd straightened her bun, but she hadn't bothered to change after today's fieldwork. What was the point? She'd only been out a few hours, anyway.

"I'm cataloguing species of tree beetles lately," said Abby, knowing Carol wouldn't be interested and not caring. If she had to listen to Carol's litany of complaints about Mrs. Kirby's annoying little dog, or Mrs. Lockheed's constant telephone calls about this event and that, Carol could certainly listen to Abby's stories about her own work. And regardless, Abby found it interesting to describe how much of a thrill she got when out in the field, the sun and wind blowing her hair, finding a new insect or that rare insect that her professors told her she'd probably never have the skills to find. 

Carol tried to look polite. "Oh?"

Abby inwardly rolled her eyes, and pulled a long face. "Yes, 'oh'. I found several new examples of them in the forest behind my house. The markings are really extraordinary. I can't wait to send the samples into the lab for Professor Oliand to look at."

Now it was Carol's turn to roll her eyes. "I'm sure." But she smiled at Abby. "That's really lovely, darling. I'm glad you find such pleasure in your work." And Abby knew Carol really was, which made it easier to let go of her former disinterest.

The waitress came sashaying up to the table. "Can I get you ladies anything to eat?"

Abby stretched, like a big cat, and gave the waitress her best smile. She liked this one, a little brown-eyed brunette, curvy and sassy-looking. Out of the corner of her eye, Abby spotted Carol looking pointedly away, but she pushed on, anyway. "Oh, how about some of your stuffed mushroom caps? And a new basket of bread, please. It's just delicious tonight. Carol, anything for you?"

Carol fixed the waitress with a frosty smile. "No, thank you."

Abby gave the little waitress a cat-like smile again. "Oh, and maybe another Scotch. Don't forget one for yourself."

"Oh, ma'am, we're not supposed to have anything like that . . ." But the waitress smiled back at Abby, and Abby pushed a dollar bill across the table. 

"Well, when you're able to. That one's on me."

By now, Carol's face was completely frozen in disapproval, and Abby knew she'd gone a bit too far. When the waitress left, Carol deliberately turned her head away from Abby, and Abby inwardly rolled her eyes.

"Come on, darling. It's just a bit of fun."

"Yes. I'm sure." Carol's voice was frosty, and Abby felt a bit badly. 

"Carol. Don't be like this. Please."

"Me?" Carol elegantly sipped her drink. "I'm not 'like anything', Abigail. It's not my behaviour that's in reproach, here."

The waitress came back with the food, and Abby smiled at her. She pushed the basket of bread and mushroom caps, which were drizzled with a savoury gravy-like sauce, to Carol, but Carol shook her head, so Abby munched while the band tuned up.

Abby generally knew that Carol would thaw out as the night went on and the alcohol flowed, but this time, she refused. While she'd usually sit close to Abby, as close as they could get without arousing suspicion, this time, she sat with her legs crossed elegantly at the other side of the half-circle seat. The band played some good numbers, and Carol appeared to be enjoying herself. But while she drank four or five glasses of wine, she didn't touch the food, and by the time the band finished around midnight, Carol was decidedly not looking completely within her faculties.

As everyone began to file out, Abby reluctantly got to her feet. She always felt slightly let down when a night ended, but tonight she was secretly more than happy to go home, with Carol in this mood. Carol got unsteadily to her feet, and then swayed a bit, but as Abby offered her a hand, she coolly ignored it. Abby shrugged and led the way out of the bar into the cool early-summer air.

Carol seemed to be okay on her feet, so Abby didn't bother to offer her arm again. She led the way quietly down the street to where she'd parked her car. Abby had stopped drinking two or so hours ago, making sure to drink water and eat some more food. The cheque for all the food and alcohol had been ridiculously high, but Carol had steadfastly ignored it, and Abby had been too tired to argue. She'd paid it without a word.

Abby opened the car door for Carol and watched as the taller woman disappeared inside. She dreaded the ride home at this point, but knew the only way to get through it was to get through it. Sighing, she opened the car door and slipped inside.

//~//

The flirting, thought Carol, was really just totally out of line. Especially when Carol was sitting right there! Abby liked the pretty girls, but she usually had more respect than to do it directly in front of Carol. In Carol's alcohol-muddled head, she thought perhaps she hadn't made enough of an effort to catch Abby's attention that night. But then she just tossed her head. Regardless, Abby was with _Carol_ that night. Flirting wasn't appropriate, and Abby knew it.

Sitting in the car beside Abby, knowing she was freezing her darling out, Carol shifted slightly in her seat. She really should have visited the ladies' room before she left, but the drive was short, and Carol knew she could wait. She _had_ had the occasional small accident while drinking before . . . and a few bigger ones around Abby, mostly, but Carol chose to block them out. They couldn't have been all that bad, after all. She didn't even really remember them, and Abigail was always prone to exaggeration.

Still, though . . . she shifted again as her bladder squeezed. It may have been a good idea. She'd definitely have to dash as soon as they got back to Abby's.

As Carol watched the moonlit countryside rush by, she realized that Abby was taking a different, more scenic route to her house. Inwardly, Carol sighed in exasperation. How very like Abby to do this - just when Carol really had to use the toilet! Carol knew it was about trying to get her to talk and warm back up, but right now, Carol wished Abby a million miles away, or at least not in the car beside her, so that she could drive to the nearest bathroom.

Carol's bladder pushed against her again, and a desperate little pain stabbed at her. She squeezed her legs together and tried to sit still. It would never do to squirm all over the seat. 

Looking over at Abby out of the corner of her eye, she noticed with annoyance that Abby looked completely relaxed. The window was open a little bit, blowing fresh air through their hair. Carol knew how much Abby loved to drive. She kept talking about buying her own car someday, and not using her parents' car, and Carol knew that if Abby had the choice, she'd drive out onto the open road at the fastest speed she could manage, just for the sheer thrill and freedom of it. 

And usually, Carol would be all for that idea - if she wasn't so damned uncomfortable.

Unconsciously, Carol sighed, and Abby looked over, her eyes bright. "Are you finally ready to talk, Carol? Because this is becoming ridiculous."

Carol tossed her head impatiently. "No. I don't want to speak to you."

Abby sighed, just as impatiently. "Oh, stop it. You're being childish now. I know I shouldn't have flirted with that waitress, but you're overreacting, Carol."

Carol felt her bladder squeeze and she squeezed her legs together, a little panicky, as her panties threatened to get damp. "Abby, you do this every time." Carol shifted again in her seat, her head starting to ache, and her bladder's insistent ache growing constant now. "I'm sitting right there and you need to flirt with someone else, and you don't think about how I may feel, having to watch it. Aren't you happy with the way I look?"

Abby looked surprised. "Oh, honey. Of course I am." She fell silent for a moment, uncharacteristic for Abby. "I guess it's in my nature? Not that it's really an excuse, I suppose . . ." She trailed off. 

Carol felt her eyes filling with tears. She was just so uncomfortable, and she _hurt,_ and Abby didn't feel she was pretty enough, maybe, and her head was starting to feel fuzzy and dizzy. The wine had been stronger than she thought.

"Abby, where are we? I want to go home." Carol's voice broke a little on the last word, and Abby's hand snaked across the seat to squeeze Carol's.

"We'll be home in a moment." 

Abby's warm hand in hers felt good, but soon, Carol couldn't help but squirm on the seat. Immediately, she felt ashamed, because Abby looked up at her questioningly. But she just had to go to the bathroom so badly . . . she could feel her bladder pulsing. As it spasmed, Carol felt a few drops leak into her silk panties, and she blinked, two tears falling onto her cheeks.

"Oh, darling. If I'd known you'd be this upset about things . . ."

"It's not that," Carol got out, and then suddenly, the last of her polished veneer dropped away. "Abby, I have to go to the bathroom, so badly . . ." Her words ended in a sob. "I just can't wait. I'm sorry . . ."

Abby's face was a study of surprise. "Well, Carol, why didn't you go before we left? You usually do, though I suppose this isn't the first time this has happened . . ." She pulled into the driveway of the big stone house. "Can you make it inside?"

Carol's bladder ached so badly that she clutched her abdomen. She knew that if she stood up, she'd start to pee, and then all would be lost. She'd wet herself on Abby's doorstep before while drunk, but she hadn't ever remembered it before. The tears started to spill down her cheeks and she sobbed, her hand finding its way to her skirt, pushing against herself, which gave temporary relief.

"I don't know if I can get out."

"Well, you're going to have to," said Abby, her voice now amused. "You can't go in the car."

"I know that," snapped Carol, but then another spasm came and she moaned. "Abby . . ."

"Okay. Deep breaths. You nitwit. I don't know why you do this to yourself - and to me." Abby let Carol squeeze her hand and when the spasm passed, she immediately let go and got out of the car, opening Carol's door. "Now's the time. Out you get."

As Carol stood, she felt a thin, warm stream of urine soak into her panties and she squeezed her thighs together to prevent any more damage. "Abby, it's happening." Carol felt about five years old and just as out of control of her emotions as she'd been then. 

"Well, come on." Abby pulled her over to the grass. "It's not the first time. We'll fix it. It's okay." She rubbed Carol's back.

Carol felt her bladder finally give out and suddenly a hot wetness started to cascade down her legs, soaking through her panties, her nylons, and down into the grass. The relief was so much that her legs actually trembled. She held onto Abby and Abby whispered comforting things into her ear. Carol was aware she was openly crying, and felt a deep well of shame start up inside her tummy. 

"Okay. It's okay. Shh, shh. Silly girl. Next time you'll not be so stubborn, will you?" Abby pulled Carol to her and let Carol snuggle into her shoulder, turning her teary face into the fresh-smelling, rough tweed cloth. "Are you okay to walk inside now?"

"But I'm all wet . . . oh, Abby, what a mess."

"It's all right. We're going to give you a nice bath and clean you up. Good as new, all right?"

"All right." Carol rubbed her face across her sleeve and let Abby lead her inside. She was very unsteady on her feet now, the alcohol finally hitting her, and Abby had to support her on the stairs. Thankfully, none of the servants were still awake.

In Abby's room with the adjoining bathroom, she helped Carol take off her wet things. "I'm impressed, darling. You didn't ruin your skirt."

"I tried not to," Carol sniffled, feeling utterly spent. She let Abby run her bath and help her into it. The hot water felt heavenly, washing away all evidence of her accident. But as Abby gently washed her, running water over her shoulders and chest, Carol burst into tears again.

Abby looked concerned. "Oh, honey. What's the trouble?"

"You're with me. You're mine," said Carol roughly, her voice blurred by tears. "You need to pay attention to me."

Abby looked like she was trying to hide a smile. "Well, I was never in any doubt of that."

"No more flirting," said Carol, her voice starting to slur. "No more. I'm your girl."

Abby's face softened. "You sure are. No more flirting. That's a promise."

//~//

Abby helped Carol out of the bath, wrapping her in a huge white towel, and led her back into the bedroom. She'd laid out a fresh nightie for Carol, and also one of her cloth diapers, which were modified terrycloth towels, just in case. Carol usually balked a bit at the diaper, but tonight she meekly lay down and let Abby dress her, rubbing her eyes sweetly and yawning.

When Carol was dressed, smelling sweet from her bath, she crawled across the bed and snuggled down under Abby's thick quilt. While the days were warm, the nights were still cool, and the big electric fan was blowing the country air across the bed, creating a cool breeze. Goosebumps rose on Carol's arms and she turned over to face Abby, still standing at the edge of the bed. Her lips curved in a sweet smile.

"You're happier now, aren't you, sweetie," murmured Abby. "But don't go to sleep just yet. We need to get you some water, otherwise it's going to be a rough morning tomorrow."

Carol pouted. "No. I don't want any water."

"Don't be a silly. Of course you're having some." Abby found the glass baby bottle that she used with Carol on nights like these, fishing in her bedside drawer, and went into the bathroom to fill it up with cool water. When she came back out, she undressed and settled into bed beside Carol, giving her a sweet kiss on the forehead.

Carol crawled into Abby's arms and took the rubber nipple into her mouth, sucking sweetly, her eyes closing. Abby dropped another kiss onto her cheek, and smiled.

She'd keep her promise if it meant more clumsy, messy nights like this.


End file.
